


Ouroboros

by Renard et Lupus (thunderandlightning)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Teen Wolf (TV), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderandlightning/pseuds/Renard%20et%20Lupus
Summary: A multi-verse story in which most of the Teen Wolf characters are royalty and a lot of stuff happens.





	Ouroboros

Lydia walked along a paved path in her city, greeting people by name when she recognized them, nodding when she didn’t know who they were, but she kept a smile on her face the whole time. She had a strange feeling in her stomach, one that hadn’t been there since the night she learned that her grandmother, Queen before her, had fallen ill. She had to be careful and couldn’t mention her concerns to anyone except her most trusted advisors. She knew this from experience. Trying to tell her mother that she had known something was wrong with her grandmother had only caused other people to eye her suspiciously, despite the fact that she was only six at the time. She leaned against a doorway when she was certain she wouldn’t be seen, pressing a hand against her abdomen and biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out at how _wrong_ she was certain everything was about to become. It wasn’t anything physical that she could find a cure for, so she gave herself a moment and walked up the stairs to the castle, taking in the sight of familiar banners and letting her smile become more genuine, even though the feeling in her stomach only grew stronger.

“Darling?” Natalie asked, looking at Lydia and furrowing her brows. “Is everything alright? You look a bit… pale?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Lydia took a deep breath and looked around the hall. “I wasn’t informed that we were having a celebration. What’s this about?” 

Natalie smiled. “Oh, sweetheart - it’s so exciting, isn’t it? All of the eligible bachelors from across the continent are coming here. They’re going to compete for your hand in marriage.”

“Compete.” Lydia repeated. “They intend to duel?” She pressed her lips together and tried not to grimace. Her mother always criticized her for that. “Couldn’t I just talk to them?” 

Natalie looked bewildered. “Well, I suppose, but couldn’t you speak to them after they duel, too?”

“Not if they’re dead.” Lydia rolled her eyes and walked past her, sitting on her throne and putting her crown on carefully. “Thank you all for coming.” She called out. “There will be no duels during this visit.” 

There were several disappointed noises coming from the crowd gathered, and Natalie looked around before sighing and taking a seat off to the side of Lydia’s throne without interfering.

“Then… how are we to compete?” A voice called out in confusion before being loudly shushed. The voice abruptly added a sputtered, “Ah, I mean - Your Grace?”

Lydia smiled. “By your wits, of course.” She glanced down as the ground shook, tightening her grip on the arms of her chair. 

There was an ominous flapping noise that sounded like a thousand gusting winds on the worst night of winter, and the earth shook once more before whatever caused it let out a terrifying screech. 

Natalie gasped and reached out to Lydia in alarm. “What on earth was that?” She muttered. 

Lydia smiled widely, standing up and walking back down the steps and past the crowds of huddled onlookers, holding a hand out toward the dragon on the balcony. She tilted her head back to look up at the rider on the dragon’s back. “Hello. You’re late.” 

Jackson smirked and patted the dragon’s neck, waiting until the massive creature obligingly moved his wing to the floor before he climbed down. “I am not.” He replied easily. “I arrived exactly when I meant to.” He approached Lydia and then bent to one knee, taking her hand in his. “My lady.”

“So now you’re some sort of wizard?” Lydia teased. “You should address me as ‘your grace,’ as you’re in my territory and I am Queen here.” She looked up at the dragon again. “Does your chariot have a name?” 

The dragon snorted and tossed her head from side to side, and Jackson looked up at her in amusement. “My apologies, Your Grace. She does have a name, yes. Coraxyia. She was named in honor of Talia Hale’s youngest daughter.”

Lydia lowered her hand, deciding not to risk being burned alive for wanting to see what scales felt like. “A wise person would say that naming anything after a woman is a way to honor her, not shame her. Do you have a betrothal already?”

“I do not, Your Grace. And I am in no way wise.” Jackson replied bluntly, smiling. “In fact, I seem to regularly seek out the sort of attention that will likely land me in hot water, hence my girl’s name.” He patted the dragon’s strong neck and ignored her when she chuffed at him irritably, her eyes narrowed and thin tendrils of smoke billowing from her nostrils. “I have no quarrel with the Hales - they are good people. The princess and I… do not see eye to eye. Literally and figuratively.”

“You should be careful what you say here.” Lydia smiled. “You were the last to arrive for this apparent sneak attack on my marital status. I see no benefit to a marriage to King Daniel, and the only Argent close to my age is Allison, hardly proper if I want to produce an heir. Her grandfather may be king of his land, but I would prefer someone able to have a discussion with me, not at me.” She tilted her head. “Which still puts me in an interesting position, because my territory is bordered by four other kingdoms with eligible royalty.”

Jackson smiled. “It is indeed. One of which is my own.” He studied her. “My kingdom is perhaps not the most powerful, I am aware. Our exports are in direct competition with the exports of the other kingdoms. The one thing we have that cannot be found in Hale, Stilinski, Argent, Mahealani and Alpha territories are these magnificent beasts.” He smiled crookedly. “And myself, of course, but I am secondary to them.” He reached into the satchel at his side and slowly withdrew a scaly opal-toned oval, three times the size of a chicken egg. “If I am to compete for your hand, I intend to come out on top or go out fighting, but as I am the last to arrive, and yet the first to bestow you with any gifts, I would hope that I have already bested your would-be suitors.” He stepped closer and gently placed the egg in the Queen’s palms. “This is from Coraxyia’s sister’s clutch, newly laid. Only the breath of a dragon - or an inferno - can give the egg the heat sufficient enough to hatch the youngling inside. And it is my gift to you.”

Lydia stared down at the dark blue egg. “And if I took this egg along with me and pledged myself to Stiles?” She teased. “Or to Derek Hale? Would you demand I give it back?”

“It is my gift to you.” Jackson repeated, although he looked slightly mutinous at the idea that Lydia would take his gift without at least considering him. “You are free to do as you wish, but a gift remains a gift, and to ask for it back is just simply… rude.”

“Don’t get yourself so worked up.” Lydia laughed. “There will be no duels today. I refuse to watch men injure one another to prove themselves worth my time when I would rather know someone has a strong mind, not strong muscles. My land is not maintained by the amount of weight I can lift, it is maintained by my problem-solving, and I expect to marry a man who thinks as I think, but not so much that he never challenges me.”

Jackson searched her face. “You're more intelligent than people try to give you credit for, aren't you?” He asked quietly, keeping his words between himself and Lydia. He sighed a second later. “I am intelligent - I don't think I am quite to your degree, but I have my moments.” His lips twitched. “My lands are maintained by wealth alone - the only intelligence that aides in this comes from my father’s advisors, and there are few. I am the only heir.” He fell silent, thinking, and then said, “I cannot promise to be what you want. I doubt very much that I am what you had in mind when you thought about who you would take for your husband. I match wits, and I argue with the best of them, but I don't know if I could be a challenge to you.” He furrowed his brows. “I would ask for your hand, but I understand that there may be a better match for you. I can wait my turn, if you would rather… er, conduct interviews.”

Lydia pressed her lips together, thinking. “My brothers will be old enough soon to wed, and there is Cora Hale and Erica Stilinski. Allison Argent. If a marriage occurs for any of them, that is up to them. You could be asking for Allison’s hand, or Cora’s. Yet, here you are.”

Jackson gazed back at her stoically, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I am.” He agreed readily. 

“Then there is only one thing for me to do. Come with me.” Lydia turned and walked back toward her throne, holding the dragon egg carefully as her eyes searched the crowd. She stopped in front of a brown-haired, brown-eyed boy her own age. “I require your presence for a private discussion.”

Stiles gave the dragon egg a curious look. “Yes, your Grace.” He followed her from the room, going into a room with a map spread out across a table.

Jackson followed silently, peering at Stiles and Lydia alternately. He exhaled, bracing himself for bad news. 

Lydia set the egg aside and rested a book against it, to keep it from falling. She looked at the map of their territories. “I would like this part of your land.” She rested her index finger on the map, looking up at Stiles. “In exchange, Jackson will give you this portion.” She moved her hand to another part of the map and glanced toward the boy she intended to marry, smiling. 

“How would this benefit me?” Stiles looked wary. “I’m being asked to make a small trade that has no relevance to me. In fact, it might upset people in all three of our kingdoms to hear this bit of news.” 

“You propose we offer some sort of compensation?” Lydia looked amused. “How about if anyone complains, we’ll take their land from them? What I’m asking is hardly going to uproot the lives of anyone.” 

“It’s easy for you to say that.” Stiles muttered. “Your life won’t be affected in any significant way.” 

Jackson stared at Lydia in astonishment. “I…” He blinked, and then looked at Stiles. “But you would have had your life affected if Her Grace had chosen you. She couldn’t have left her kingdom - you would have had to leave yours to come here.” He paused, studying the map. “This… actually leaves you an avenue to take, whether you expected it or not. Princess Allison and Princess Cora - and Princess Malia - are all unattached. I believe the princes from the Alpha kingdom are both unattached as well. Whatever way you would choose, you can create an alliance easily. You might end up being uprooted either way, but you can easily make a match with any of the remaining kingdoms - including this one, should you choose to wait until Her Grace’s brothers are at a marrying age.” He squinted. “And if you choose not to make the alliance yourself, I’m sure that your sister would be willing.”

Stiles stared at Jackson, then rolled his eyes and turned toward the Queen. “Lydia, you could have just fucking asked me.” He muttered. “Instead of turning this into some kind of power trip to get your intended to see what you’re like. If you can convince Allison to marry me, I’ll-” 

“Convince her yourself.” Lydia murmured. “I’ll have the cartographer come in and make some alterations while you go make a fool of yourself. I’m not really causing you any trouble, you just want to argue.” 

Stiles frowned. For a long time, he was certain that he and Lydia would get married one day. Their lands were safe havens for people who could do magic, and he respected her in a way that he knew most people didn’t. “I thought...” 

“I’m well-aware of what you thought, Stiles.” Lydia looked up at him. “Maybe one day, your sister will marry one of my brothers and all six of us - that is, Jackson and myself, and my sibling and yours, and you and your wife - will have a very sizeable bit of land, but I’m not interested and never have been, and if you had been paying any real attention instead of daydreaming, you would have known that.” She looked back down at the map as Stiles left the room. 

Jackson was silent for a long moment, staring thoughtfully through the entryway of the room before he turned to look at the Queen. “You accept my proposal?” He asked softly.

Lydia smiled, nodding. “Yes.” She still felt like something was wrong, but it wasn’t the choice she had made. “I’ll tell my mother to let us announce our engagement and give everyone a chance to prepare for our wedding. I don’t want to wait for it.” 

Jackson smiled softly at her, reaching for her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I don’t want to wait, either. I’ll send word to my kingdom immediately.”

Lydia picked up the dragon egg and walked out of the map room, stumbling backward and nearly dropping it when she heard an earsplitting scream. The room had gone dark, which made no sense to her, given how much light she knew the room held and what time of day it was. She heard her handmaiden speak and turned instinctively toward the voice. 

“You should come with me.” Kira said quickly, not bothering to stammer her way through the formal phrases, the way she usually did. “I’ll get you to safety.” 

“Fine, but I’ll follow you. I’m not letting go of this.” Lydia nodded toward the egg. “Jackson, come on.” She could barely see in front of her, but she had walked through this room so many times that she was certain she could find her way, even if she was actually blind. As they walked, she heard more people move to join them, and then Kira was leading her down a flight of stairs and pressing a torch into her hand. 

“Your Grace, you have to go somewhere safe.” Kira began. “And your betrothed - oh, congratulations, by the way - cannot go with you. Men aren’t welcome there. Walk along the tunnel until you get to the cars. One will take you where you need to go. Don’t worry, they have their instructions already. We were informed about this being a potential problem, one day.” 

Lydia tried to ask what Kira was talking about, but the handmaiden had gone back up the stairs at nearly double the speed that she had used to escort Lydia down. With her torch in one hand and the egg cradled against her side with the other, she started walking. 

***

When the smoke cleared the room and everyone could see more than half an inch in front of their own eyes once more, Stiles looked around for his sister and father, stopping just short of climbing the steps to Lydia’s throne, to give himself a better vantage point. Some things were too sacred to mess with. 

Erica looked around wildly, clutching her father’s arm until she caught sight of her brother. Her arm flew up in the air from across the throne room. “Stiles! Stiles, here!”

John turned as she spoke and caught sight of his son, placing a hand on Erica’s back and pushing his way through the crowd. He cupped the back of Stiles’ neck when he got to him. “Are you alright?”

Stiles nodded, smiling in relief as he hugged his father, then Erica. “I’m fine. But you know this means I can’t stay. I have to know what’s going on. I’ll take some people with me, so I won’t have to travel alone. But I have to hurry.” 

“But where are you going to go?” Erica asked, looking bewildered. “What is happening? Stiles, what was all that smoke?”

“Demons, I think.” Stiles murmured. He hugged Erica again. “I’ll send word as soon as I stop someplace.” He turned and called out to his best friend. “Scott!” 

Scott pushed his way past everyone standing between himself and Stiles, looking concerned. “What can I do?” He asked immediately.

“Gather as much food as you can carry.” Stiles commanded. “And some warmer clothes, since I don’t know where we’re going to find ourselves. I’m not waiting long, just long enough to speak to a few people and then we’ll be on our way. Hurry.” He walked away to look for Jackson and Allison. 

Jackson exhaled worriedly as he gazed around the throne room, running a hand through his hair. The last he’d seen of his intended bride, her handmaiden had separated them and hurried her away. It made his stomach churn, to not know where she’d gone, or if she was safe. He prayed she was.

Stiles waved toward Jackson. “Hey, I’m leaving here. I think you should come with me.” 

Jackson furrowed his brows at Stiles. “Will it involve finding Her Grace?” He asked in concern. “Her handmaiden, the dark-haired girl, told her to follow the tunnel, but also said that I couldn’t go where she was going.”

“Well, I know exactly where that is. And we’re going.” Stiles nodded, smiling proudly. “I’m waiting for someone, but if you want to get some things together, we could leave... wait, did you bring your dragon?” 

Jackson looked skyward. “It’s completely likely that she’s lazing around on the castle ramparts.” He admitted. “She’ll come when I call her.”

“Well, I don’t want to travel around on a dragon.” Stiles muttered. “Get your things and wait for me,” he called over his shoulder, already striding away to look for Allison. 

Allison stood off to the side, worrying her lower lip as she silently watched everyone who was still gathered. She straightened up when she saw Stiles, and moved to meet him, ducking her head a little with a small smile. “Hello, Your Grace.” She said softly.

“Hey.” Stiles felt like he was probably supposed to be more formal, but he didn’t care, in that moment. “Listen, Lydia kind of wandered off and I know where she’s headed, but she shouldn’t be going there alone. It’s in my kingdom and I’m going after her. Are you going to come with me?” 

Allison dropped her formality the moment Stiles started speaking. “I’ll go.” She said quickly. “How do you know where she’s gone? How did you know she was gone?”

“She’s Lydia.” Stiles blinked. “That’s how I knew she was gone. As for where, Jackson said that Kira told him that men aren’t welcome, where Lydia’s headed. There’s only one place I know of in the entire continent like that.” 

Allison straightened, her mouth falling open in understanding. “Then lead the way.”

Stiles grinned. “Thank you.” He murmured, walking toward the set of stairs near the throne room. He turned to look around once more, to make sure everyone else was following that he expected to come with him. 

Scott hurried to Stiles’ side, carrying the bag of things that Stiles had told him to gather - dried meat and fruits in his rucksack, and another satchel carrying a change of clothing for both himself and Stiles, while the clothes on his back had been exchanged for something more practical. He faltered when he saw Allison following, and blinked at Stiles. “You’re bringing the princess along?” He blurted.

Allison heard him. “He asked me, and I answered. Yes, I’m going along.” She confirmed, and then smiled a little. “I’d be handier to have along than you seem to think, Ser.”

Scott made a face. “I’m not a knight.”

Allison tilted her head to the side. “You don’t want to be?”

“I don’t think I can be.” Scott replied, and didn’t say anymore, clamping his mouth shut.

Allison frowned, and then turned to Stiles. “I brought less formal clothes with me.” She told him. “I just need to go to my rooms to change and prepare to leave. I won’t be long.” She turned to leave, and then stopped, turning back. “Don’t leave without me. Not that I think you would. But don’t.”

Stiles nodded. “Jackson will take another hour, as it is. But don’t assume that’s an invitation to take your time.”

Allison smiled at him. “I would never assume.” She promised him. “I won’t take long at all.” She hurried away, looking briefly back over her shoulder at him as she went.

Stiles turned toward Scott. “Lydia seems to think I should ask Allison to marry me. I may consider it. But I want your opinion.”

Scott tilted his head, and then looked at Stiles. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t consider it, honestly. The Argents…” He hesitated. “Well, from all accounts, the princess seems to be the most down to earth, decent person in that family.” He furrowed his brow, and lowered his voice. “And honestly, your marriage could probably weed out any of the, ah, less savory Argents. Your father wouldn’t tolerate Gerard’s bullshit, and I know you wouldn’t.” He shifted, and then smiled crookedly. “But all of that is political. I caught the way she looked at you when she left. I think the princess has a bit of a crush.”

Stiles looked surprised. “What the hell for?” He snorted. “She would be better off with a Hale. Exile any idiot family members on both sides and let King Daniel see to their living arrangements in the great north.”

Scott shrugged. “You asked my opinion. My opinion comes with observations.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m just pointing out what I see. I don’t know why in the hell she’d like you. You’re a whiny little shit, sometimes.” He teased.

“I should make you muck stables for an entire summer.” Stiles retorted, grinning. “See which of us is a whiny little shit, then.”

“It’ll still be you.” Scott replied, clapping Stiles on the back fondly.

“Maybe I should just send you off to do it permanently.” Stiles spoke quietly, his smile playful. “Maybe I should find a new lover, one who won’t insult me.”

“You would miss me too much.” Scott told him softly, turning toward Stiles with a small smile. “And you would never find another lover who won’t insult you. You test my patience often enough, the gods know what you’d do to someone who wasn’t used to you.” His eyes were soft as he spoke, his hand sliding out to wrap around Stiles’ hip.

Stiles’ gaze darted around the room before he leaned in to kiss Scott. “I’d be a cruel king.” He admitted. “I’d be like a black widow spider, murdering anyone who displeased me after sleeping with them.” 

Scott kissed him back softly. “You would be a _good_ king.” He corrected. “Like your father. But a little more willing to blur the line between justice and vengeance.” He squinted at his lover. “Are you planning to sleep with people other than me and your future wife?”

“I am planning to coerce anyone who won’t succumb to my other tactics of persuasion.” Stiles smiled. “It’s not something I’ve made a secret. ‘Never trust a fox.’” 

Scott snorted. “Foxes can be tamed.”

“Foxes can be complacent when they so choose.” Stiles corrected. “And like any wild animal, we attack when provoked.” 

Scott’s lips twitched, and he pressed closer to Stiles. “Am I provoking you, Your Grace?” He teased quietly.

“Is that your goal?” Stiles put his hands on Scott’s hips and yanked him close. “Are you all of a sudden intent on seeing how feral I can become?” 

Scott laughed, settling both arms around Stiles brazenly. “I have seen how feral you can become, and I've thoroughly enjoyed it.” He pressed another kiss to Stiles’ lips before pulling away.

Stiles smiled, laughing quietly as he looked at Scott. “There are times when I regret that the gods saw fit to give us different stations in life.” He murmured. “But as long as I am able, I’ll challenge their plans and alter the world as I see fit.” 

“And I will be at your side as you do.” Scott promised him. 

Stiles nodded, glancing around to see where Jackson and Allison were. 

Jackson strode into the hall, his satchel tucked against his side. He looked around for Stiles, and then made his way toward the prince when he spotted him. “Cora comes and goes,” he began, referencing his dragon. “But she’ll be around, especially if she can sense that I need her. Otherwise, she'll fly, hunt, sleep, whatever she feels like doing. I've already sent her on ahead.”

“You named your dragon after a Hale?” Stiles looked amused. “That’s clever. Word will get back to her and she’ll be furious. You’ll do well to marry Lydia before Cora can gather an army and march across Martin territory to come hunt you down.” 

Jackson smiled faintly. “Oh, the princess is already aware, believe me. She made her displeasure known by boxing my ears the last time the Hale contingent met with my father on my territory.” He rubbed at his ear with one hand and shuddered. “The gods help the man that marries that woman. He’ll need it.”

Stiles nodded in agreement. “It won’t be me, that’s certain. It appears that the Argent heir has an interest in me.” He laughed. “I should have known better than to doubt Lydia’s words. We’re waiting for her now, but we’ll leave as soon as she arrives.” 

“Of course. And look, it could be worse. It could be her grandfather that was interested in you.” Jackson’s lips twitched, but he otherwise kept a straight face. 

Scott let out a choking noise and turned to unnecessarily busy himself with their few bags, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. 

“You’ll have to forgive me.” Stiles said calmly, not looking at Scott. “You see, my attendant and I have an unusual form of communication, and he just told me that he would enjoy his living quarters being moved to the goat pens.” He turned toward Scott. “Now is really not the time for this, but I suppose I could try my best to accommodate you by allowing you to sleep in the trenches along the side of the road, where riders are known to toss their horses’ excrement. You’ll be a bit unbearable to travel with, but I only want my people to be happy. Consider it done.” He turned back to Jackson. “As for Allison’s grandfather’s proclivities, I’ve had a wide assortment of interested parties. It might do him some good to find someone like me to entertain him, but I’m finding myself preoccupied these days with seeing to the well-being of my loyal subjects who are, in fact, truly loyal.” His voice rose with the last few words and he scowled. “Tell the princess that I’ve gone on ahead, but the lot of you can catch up when you see fit.” He walked toward the stairs, his fists clenched at his sides. He could feel energy crackling in his palms, and he wanted to do his best to keep it concealed until he could calm down enough to make it disappear altogether. Even though his kingdom and Lydia’s were home to many practitioners of magic, he doubted that a gathering of every royal in the continent was where he wanted to reveal that he had capabilities of his own. 

Jackson stared after him, bewildered, and then looked toward Scott, who'd gone silent following Stiles’ words. “Ah… I'm guessing he doesn't tolerate fools?”

Scott smiled tightly and finished ‘sorting’ their things. “He does not. Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must catch up to him. I trust you’ll meet us when Princess Allison arrives.” He grabbed the bags and ran after Stiles without another word. 

Stiles stopped on the spiral staircase, waiting for Scott to catch up. “We are wasting time, while you enjoy jokes at my expense and Lydia gets further away, possibly to be lost to m- to her intended for a very long time. Possibly, she will go to the gods, if the rumors are true. I hope the amusement you felt was worth all of that, if we find ourselves mourning her.” He held his hand out for one of the bags, still not looking at Scott. “When this is done, no matter how the dice fall, I’m releasing you.”

Scott stared at the back of Stiles’ head in disbelief, but refused to hand him either bag. His lips tightened, and he muttered, “If that is what you wish to do, Your Grace, then I will not argue. I sincerely hope that we find the Queen so that you feel comfortable in her safety once more. I very much hope that she will choose to give you another chance when we rescue her.” He moved past Stiles stiffly, hastening toward the tunnel quickly to avoid the Prince.

Stiles followed him, trying to calm down. He grimaced, lifting his hands when he couldn't hold back and it was becoming painful. Sparks burst from his palms, and torches lit on either side of the narrow path. “Well.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “At least there was some use, this time.”

Scott was silent for a beat before his shoulders slumped. He didn't look at Stiles, but he stopped walking in order to dig in his bag. “I brought my ointments and salves with me.” He said quietly. “If it hurts too much.”

“I can deal with pain in my hands.” Stiles snapped. “It’s mine and I earned it.” He lowered his voice. “You won’t want to be too far from where native plants and herbs grow, for your medicines. Lydia may well have use for you. I’ll tell her to take you as part of the agreement to trade bits of our land. I expect you’ll want your mother moved, as well?”

Scott smiled bitterly and stopped rummaging. “You wish to be rid of the bastard and his whore mother that desperately, do you?” He replied flatly. “When only twenty minutes ago, I pledged to stay at your side, always, now you want nothing more than to see me gone.” He clenched his hands together, feeling sick to his stomach. “Trade me, then. Give me to the Queen, and my mother, she would gladly tend to Her Grace and any future children she may bear.”

“What in the seven hells is wrong with you?” Stiles demanded. “I have never, and would never, refer to your mother that way. Or to you. I have no use for people claiming allegiance to me and laughing in my face, knowing what I am and how I would feel about it.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “You did this in front of another prince and you think I can pretend it didn't happen? The Alphas would have executed you for insolence! If they think my people are openly defiant and that I am an easy target, what’s to stop them from declaring war? You saw it as a good joke. I see it as a vulnerability that I can’t afford.”

Scott finally lifted his gaze to look at Stiles, his eyes wet. “If you'll recall, there was no actual laughter. I did not openly mock you. I turned away and busied myself so that it wouldn't be construed that way. And the joke itself would have been on that fool of an old man who is so determined to seek strength and power that he refuses alliances with sensible people and seeks out alliances with lunatics. I have only ever been devoted to you, I would not willingly place you in any sort of position that would damage your image and show you weak.” He held Stiles’ gaze, and then slowly exhaled, looking down and swallowing as the reality dawned on him. “But it doesn't matter, does it? I'm a liability to you now. I have no choice.”

“You were a liability from the day you were born.” Stiles tried for a fond smile, but his lips trembled. “I wish often for any detail about us to be different. For you to be female, for me to be common. But the gods made us as we are and I - I just want to find Lydia before it’s too late.” He sighed again and started walking, even though he felt like he couldn't breathe. 

Scott didn't move, his hands shaking. “Please don't make me leave you.” He knew there was no point to asking, but he couldn't help but try. His entire life had been spent by the Crown Prince’s side, and the thought of suddenly being torn away from Stiles - who he was beginning to realize meant much, much more than he had ever expected - was enough to give way to a panic attack. In that moment, he could give a damn about Queen Lydia - he'd met the woman before, he knew damn well that she could take care of herself while whatever silly visions for his future that he'd imagined were falling apart at the seams right in front of him.

Stiles turned around, eyeing the tunnel behind them before he moved toward Scott for a kiss. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

Scott shut his eyes, fighting not to clutch Stiles to him and never let him go. “But I must.” He said quietly in resignation. His head tipped forward, and he kissed Stiles back chastely. He pulled back a fraction and whispered, “Whatever comes, wherever we go, I am yours. I swear it to you, by the old gods and the new, I am yours and always will be.”

“Or I could keep you.” Stiles sighed. “Gather an army, prepare for war, slaughter anyone who insults me, deliberately. Become what I hate.”

Scott smiled weakly at him. “You wouldn't be able to bear it.” He said softly. “Being someone you aren't would break you. This is the simplest solution. Whatever else, my departure will at least let you remain true to yourself.”

“Well, maybe I need you to remind me when I’m becoming unbearable. Maybe sending you away would... be ill-advised.” Stiles kissed Scott again, listening for footsteps. When he was sure they were still alone, he spoke softly. “I love you too much to be at war with myself, just to keep peace with others.”

Scott couldn't stop himself from clutching at Stiles now, and he held the other man closer, pressing his forehead against the Prince’s. “I love you.” He said softly, his voice trembling, and whatever else he could think to say was washed away by Stiles’ words.

Stiles smiled softly and took one of the bags, walking toward the train that was only meant for emergency or important situations. He was certain that Lydia had come this way, and he smiled in relief at the sight of her. “Thank the gods.”

Lydia gave Stiles a confused look, turning toward Scott. “What is he prattling on about?”

Scott sucked in a deep breath to calm himself, and started to explain.

Jackson’s footsteps raced down the hall toward them, followed by a quicker, lighter set - Allison’s - and the prince let out a gusting breath of relief when he saw the Queen. He stumbled toward her, stopping shy of gripping her arms to pull her close. “My Queen,” he breathed out softly. “We’d worried that we would not find you.”

Lydia smiled as someone called out to her that the tram was ready. “Let’s get going.” She nodded, taking the driver’s hand and stepping onto the train.

Jackson followed after her closely, unwilling to even let a fraction of distance come between them. 

Scott stepped off to the side, his eyes steady and locked on Stiles. “My Prince,” he stated and nodded his head toward Allison and then the train before pointedly raising his eyebrows. 

Stiles held his hand out to Allison. “Allow me to escort you?” He smiled. “I apologize for my haste. I have a bit of a temper at times and I have learned that the better option is to take my storm elsewhere, to keep other people away from it until it subsides. And now that I’ve made a mess of things, I would like to discuss another matter with you, if I may?”

Allison smiled back at him, gladly reaching for his hand. “Of course.” She assured him. “And really, there is no need for an apology. I… have a temper of my own, I understand the need to… confine it from the greater populace.” She gently squeezed his hand. “You haven’t made a mess of things. I promise you.”

Stiles led her onto the tram, checking to make sure Scott was with them before he spoke again. “Lydia and Jackson have agreed to marry.” He said carefully, terrified that he would mess up somehow and make Allison refuse him. “Because Lydia and I are familiar enough with one another to not bother with honorifics, she asked that I give a portion of my land to Jackson, to later be shared with her, in exchange for a portion of Jackson’s land that borders your own. I know this isn’t how things tend to be done, but I would prefer an honest courtship instead of a carefully-constructed one. I don’t believe I have much to offer in terms of companionship. I am the firstborn son of the King, so that gives me opportunity that I would not have, otherwise. I’m quick to anger, rude, and messy. But I’m also loyal to those who are loyal to me. I...” He cleared his throat, frowning. “I suppose if I had to court myself, I would refuse. I see several drawbacks for the person who decides I’m worth the trouble of marriage. But despite that, I’m asking if you would be willing to consider me.”

“Yes.” Allison replied instantly, with utter certainty on her face. “I don't want you to think that I answered without listening. I did. I understand your concerns. If I must, I will tell you my… not so savory characteristics. There is a reason that I have not been attached before now, and it certainly is not solely because of my grandfather.” She turned to face him, reaching up with her other hand so that his hand was gently cradled between both of hers. “I am unashamed to admit to you that I've been fascinated by you from the very first time we met.” She peered up at him. “Do you remember? You and your father journeyed to our kingdom to discuss trade with my father and grandfather?”

Stiles nodded slowly, smiling. “It was shortly after my mother died and my father never said it to me directly, but he feared for our people. The furs went a long way toward keeping half of the residents warm in winter, where they would have frozen to death, otherwise. But you weren’t reminding me of this so that we could discuss trade.” 

Allison laughed softly. “You’re correct. To a degree. You were so young, but you were already so interested in what your father was doing, the steps he was taking, even though you didn’t know why exactly. You showed more devotion to your people in your innocence than my grandfather has shown to his in the twenty years he has ruled. I remember being wholly uninterested in the proceedings myself because I was so fascinated by you and your interest.” She fell silent, her head tilted as she thought. “I had never seen someone so… good. Your questions even made my father smile, and he hadn’t smiled since my uncle, his brother, passed.”

“I’ll send word to my father as soon as we stop, to see Lydia off.” Stiles murmured. “I had promised to do that anyway, and one more bit of information in the same missive won’t weigh the raven down much more.” He laughed. 

Allison let out a soft laugh of her own. “Then I shall send word to my parents as well. I am unable to lie, I am very excited and happy with this match, Your Grace.”

“Formalities.” Stiles muttered, snorting. “I should use them more frequently. It’s a bad habit that I don’t. But I’m excited, also.” 

“I see no harm in disregarding formalities.” Allison said quietly. “When we’re alone, or with friends, I hardly see it necessary to call you by your title, and I highly doubt that you would wish to do the same to me.”

Stiles nodded, smiling. He looked around at their traveling companions, then opened the bag he had beside him, looking through it to see which one he had grabbed. 

Scott had been looking on with an oddly pleased expression on his face, and when Stiles reached for the bag, he lightly swatted at the prince’s hand. “Trust me to know what clothes to grab for you.” He said quietly.

“No, I wasn’t...” Stiles protested, laughing. “I’m hungry and you said you brought food. I only thought we could offer some to everyone else, as well. This trip will take most of the day.” 

Scott looked amused, and then switched the bags, placing a rucksack in front of Stiles that was stuffed to the brim. “I grabbed everything I could think of that I knew wouldn’t go bad.”

Stiles kept his gaze on the bag, knowing that if he looked up at Scott, the other three would see his adoration. He had never been much of a liar. Instead, he busied himself with unloading food from the bag. “We have apples, grapes, cheese, some dried meat... we’re best off leaving the meat and cheese for later, but there may be...” He reached back in, feeling triumphant when he grabbed a jar of honey and a loaf of bread. “Enough for a small feast.” 

Scott let out a laugh. “I’ll have to remember to stop at a market somewhere to purchase more, if the five of us will be ‘feasting’.”

Allison smiled and reached down, removing a small knife from her boot. She reached for the bread. “As long as we eat in moderation, Scott, I think we can delay the necessity for your visit to the market.” She reassured him.

“I’d like a few of the grapes.” Lydia murmured. “I’m not certain where it is we’re going, only that I have some sort of escape route that was planned for me, in event of... whatever it was that happened.” 

“Demons.” Stiles murmured. “And you’re going to a city in my kingdom where you can be kept safe.” 

“What city is this?” Jackson spoke up, reaching for the grapes and placing some into Lydia’s hands. “And why would she be safer there than anywhere else?”

“I can’t say I really know what goes on inside the walls of the Tower.” Stiles admitted. “Because men aren’t allowed there. Women refuse to discuss it once they’ve been allowed to leave, and those who leave unwillingly don’t seem inclined to talk about it, either. But the women who do leave willingly are well-respected. Sometimes, they’re feared, depending on who they are. I think Lydia already has that ability, and a few days in the presence of women like her won’t do her any harm.” 

Allison furrowed her brows, passing slices of bread around to everyone as she listened. “As long as she’s safe…” She trailed off and looked up at the Queen. “As long as you’re safe.” She repeated intently.

Jackson pressed the back of his hand gently to Lydia’s, and smiled gently at her. 

Lydia bit into the last grape that Jackson had given her, twining her fingers with his. “I have had an odd sort of feeling all day, like the certainty that it’s going to rain.” She said quietly. “But the last time I felt this distressed, my grandmother became very ill. I thought that the demons, or whatever they were, would have been the cause for my concern. But the feeling is still in the pit of my stomach.” 

Jackson lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of her knuckles. “Do you think this feeling may have something to do with this journey you’ll be on, this city - this Tower - that you’ll be going to?”

Lydia looked up at Jackson, meeting his gaze. “I’m certain of it.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m even more certain that this is something I have to do, that any attempt to deviate from whatever the gods have decided for me will only result in me being led right back to the city.” 

“Then it’s a good thing we’re all here to see you off.” Scott said firmly, offering Allison an apple as he accepted another slice of bread from her.

Jackson was nodding in agreement. “If this is what the gods will, then we’ll abide by it. We’ll see you off safely, and we’ll be there for you when you return.”


End file.
